Maybe This Time
by sb4ever
Summary: The door opens. This is a continuation of what appears to be the “Chitchat” series of vignettes of life after the series ended.


Title: Maybe This Time

Author: Ryn

Rating: K

Disclaimers: the usual

Summary: The door opens. This is a continuation of what appears to be the "Chitchat" series of vignettes of life after the series ended.

A/N: This is pure fluff and probably the last installment in this unintended series. Enjoy.

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Sarah Mackenzie's apartment

San Diego

11:50 pm, New Year's Eve

"Hello, Sarah. Happy New Year."

For a moment, she could only stare at the figure at her door.

"Clay?" she finally squeaked. "Clay? What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd drop by and say hello."

She looked at him in disbelief. "What a…surprise."

For several heartbeats they stood gazing at each other their minds subconsciously comparing still vivid mental images with the real person. Little had changed physically but hazel eyes and brown ones narrowed the tiniest bit in puzzlement noting a difference in the other that could not be readily defined.

Suddenly remembering her manners, Mac asked, "Would you like to come in?" As she stepped aside to let Webb in, she caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror.

"Oh, no!" she moaned.

Immediately he whirled around "What's the matter?"

"I forgot," she responded gesturing to her t-shirt and fleece pants. "I wasn't expecting company. You have to excuse how I'm dressed."

"Not a problem," he assured her gazing at her nightwear. "Ducks? Is that symbolic of your endless fascination with the navy—or specifically a particular naval aviator?"

The instant the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He had not come to continue the fight that had begun at Manderly four years ago.

"Same old Clay," she commented dryly. "Same old argument?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized contritely surprised at the lack of vitriol in her tone. "That was totally uncalled for."

She stared at him for a long moment stupefied at the startling words of contrition. Satisfied he was truly sorry, the corner of her mouth turned slightly up.

"Apology accepted. However, you repeat anything remotely resembling that comment and you will be out that door faster than you can say 'CIA'. Is that clear?" she stated pleasantly but firmly.

Her response was unexpected. Four years ago the defensive wall she'd erected around her feelings for Harm would have cause her to verbally launch words intended to wound if not irreparably damage their target. This was a different Sarah MacKenzie.

He dropped his coat on the arm of her couch. "You've changed," he commented abruptly.

"It's been four years," she pointed out. "No one stays the same after all that time—unless you're dead."

"Point taken."

He looked around her living room. The only indication of the holidays was an array of Christmas cards placed among the picture frames. The things scattered about the coffee table caught his eye. He walked over and reached down to pick up the bouquet.

"Reminiscing, Sarah?"

She shrugged. "It's New Year's Eve. It's a time to reflect and I felt like reflecting."

At the question in his eyes, she answered, "Bud and Harriet's wedding."

He smiled. Although he'd received an invitation, he was out of country on one of his innumerable trips. He'd sent a generous check instead.

As he placed the bouquet down, his eyes landed on the Hummel figurine. He hesitated a moment, then closed his fingers around it.

"You kept it?" he asked quietly, keeping his voice even.

She nodded. "Much as I wanted to fling it against the wall, I couldn't."

Again, his hazel eyes asked the question and again, she knew exactly what he was asking. They didn't need words.

"You meant a lot to me, Clay," she said deciding to be honest. The anger and hurt she felt towards this man had long been dealt with and resolved. "What we had wasn't perfect but it was special. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to appreciate it at the time."

Suddenly, the spook who'd been in too many life-threatening situations to count…the man who'd faced death innumerable times…the spy who had to smoothly talk his way out of one perilous situation after another…did not know what to say. He was stunned.

"Surprised?"

He could only nod.

"Therapy can do wonders," she said with a smirk. "You should try it sometimes." She walked over and took the figurine from his hand. "I never thanked you for this, did I?"

He shook his head. Therapy? Sarah had therapy? His mind was whirling with the changes in the woman before him. The bitterness and anger present at their last meeting were gone. In their place was a quiet confidence and acceptance.

"Thank you," she said softly her large brown eyes staring into his hazel ones. She leaned forward and a butterfly gentle kiss landed on his cheek.

"You've changed," he repeated.

"For the better, I hope."

Clay stared at Sarah. This meeting was not going the way he'd imagined. Of all the scenarios he'd imagined—a door shut in his face, perhaps another slap, or maybe cool indifference—he'd never imagined this.

When he'd been sent to San Diego to handle a minor but potentially explosive situation, he'd debated whether or not to see Sarah. He had argued with himself the whole ten hours it'd taken to fly from New York to San Diego that it would be a fool's errand. But after spending time with Harm and his wife, he had to see Sarah…to see if she'd changed as much as Harm had. His evening with the Rabbs had convinced him that Harm had resolved his feelings for Sarah. Had Sarah?

Mac watched in silent amusement. The suave, debonair spook was speechless. It wasn't often she'd seen him in this state. The first time was when she walked through the doorway of Admiral Chegwidden's office in the midnight blue gown. Her appearance had absolutely stunned him if his dropped jaw was any indication. The second time occurred when she came to him after he was released from the hospital following their trip to Paraguay. It was the first time they'd made love.

"Uh…um…" began Clay. For God's sake! he chided himself, you've spoken to heads of states…important, famous people. Speak to this woman coherently and clearly! he ordered himself. He cleared his throat as he felt his poise return. "Yes, you have, Sarah."

She glanced at her wall clock. "It's almost midnight. How 'bout welcoming the New Year with me?"

"I think I'd like that," he smiled sweetly.

It was her turn to freeze. She'd forgotten how devastating his dimpled smile could be. "I'll…I'll get a glass," she said slightly flustered.

Quickly, she walked to the cabinet and pulled out another wine flute. What was happening? she wondered her thoughts in a whirl. I don't see Clay or think of him for four years and now he shows up on my doorstep and I feel like a giddy schoolgirl? Calm down! she ordered herself.

She leaned down to grab the bottle of sparkling cider and filled the flute. Picking up her glass, she handed the golden beverage to Clay.

"Happy New Year, Clay," she said softly.

"Happy New Year, Sarah," he echoed.

Eyes locked, the pair took a sip of the sparkling drink. As they lowered their glasses, Clay leaned forward and placed a brief kiss on Sarah's lips.

"Clay?" She could taste the sweetness of the drink on her lips.

"It's mandatory to kiss the person you're with to welcome in the New Year," he said lightly.

A flash of disappointment flickered in her eyes.

"Oh."

She looked around reluctant to look at him.

"I'm…I'm such a bad hostess I didn't think to ask if you'd like something else to drink. Coffee? Tea?"

He shook his head holding up the flute. "This is fine." He took another sip and placed the glass down. "It's late. I better go."

"It was nice of you to drop by," said Sarah with a melancholy smile as she walked him to the door.

As her hand touched the doorknob, he turned to her. He was close enough for her to see the flecks of gold in his eyes and smell the scent that was uniquely Clay. She was having trouble focusing.

"Are you happy, Sarah?" he asked softly.

"I'm in a good place," she assured him. "Maybe I didn't get everything I dreamed about, but I have a good life. You?"

"Same here."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Finally, Clay said, "Good-bye, Sarah."

"Good-bye, Clay." She opened the door and he left.

Slowly she closed the door. Seeing Clay had brought back a whole flood of memories—some painful, some heart-pounding, some angry, some happy. Running like a thread through them all was the respect he had for her. He was the one man who'd treated her as an equal expecting her to trust him as he had trusted her. And she had failed him at a time when he needed her the most. In a life filled with regrets, that was one of her biggest misgivings. With a sigh, she reminded herself she couldn't change the past but had to live with the choices she'd made.

She turned away from the door and to begin storing away her mementoes when she spotted Clay's coat on the sofa.

"Damn!" she uttered. It might be on the West Coast but it was still winter and it was cold. He would need his coat. Wondering if she could catch him, she opened the door only to be engulfed by a pair of arms. Familiar lips pressed against hers.

"Damn it, Sarah MacKenzie!" Clay barked in exasperation as he held her at arms length. "I thought you were out of my system but one look…one kiss and all those same feelings came rushing back!"

Stunned, it took a few moments before his words penetrated her befuddled brain. "Are you…are you saying you're still in love with me?"

"I don't know if it's love or lust but I definitely feel something for you," he declared a glint of laughter in his eyes. "The question is…do you feel anything for me?"

Yes, she did, she thought but what _were_ those feelings? This man who could push her buttons like no other person with the exception of Harm. But while Harm intent was to confuse and disturb, Clay always pushed her to make her be better, make her face the truth.

"I don't know, Clay," she said honestly. "For four years I forced myself not to think about you. I can't whip out my feelings for you at a moment's notice."

"I can appreciate that," he nodded.

"However, I do know that I still care about you. I didn't think so but your smile affected me more than I care to admit," she admitted ruefully.

Taken aback, he looked at her in surprise. "My smile?"

"Your smile, Mr. Webb," she confirmed in embarrassment. "There was always something about your smile…" her voice trailed away.

"I see." He looked at her. "So, where does that leave us? Or is there an us?"

"I don't know. We can't erase the past four years. Besides, I wouldn't want to."

As he nodded, he reached for her hands. "How 'bout we remember what it was like to be apart and what it was like to be together and start from there?"

"As friends?"

He shook his head. "I don't think I could be just friends, Sarah. I want more."

The look in his eyes made her heart beat faster. "We'll take it slow."

"Slow."

"We need to talk about things—like Harm."

"Harm."

"Your job."

"My job," he echoed wondering if that would be the deal breaker. It had been in the past. Well…now would be as good a time as any to find out. "I'm still with the CIA."

"I know."

"You know?"

"You're not the only one who has contacts," she responded with a glimmer of humor. Immediately, she sobered. "I'm not asking you to quit. I know how much it means to you."

She'd surprised him yet again.

"But maybe this time," she began, "maybe this time I can overcome my prejudices and appreciate what you need to do to keep our country and its people safe."

A flicker of hope stirred. "Then maybe this time," said Clay as his arms circled her waist closing the gap between them, "maybe this time we have a fighting chance."

A tiny smile appeared on Sarah's face. "We can only hope," she said as she slipped her arms around Clay's neck. "I'm glad you happened to 'drop by'."

"So am I," he responded huskily. "It looks like it could be a very good year."

As her lips closed upon his, she whispered, "A very good year."

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A/N: And I hope it is a very good year for all of you. Thank you so much for reading and all the wonderful reviews!


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